


A Girl Called Fang

by TungstenCat



Series: Re: generation [2]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Family Fluff, Wishes Gone Wrong, keep your wolves and your hounds apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TungstenCat/pseuds/TungstenCat
Summary: Cú's breath caught as he looked her fully in the face. Pink hair framing a face rounded by youth but still all too familiar.“Is that Medb?” he burst out, and grinned in his surprise.The girl’s brow crinkled for a moment, then she smiled and puffed herself out like a rooster. “That’s right,” she said. “I’m Medb, eldest daughter of High King Eochaid. Do I know you, mister?”
Relationships: Cú Chulainn | Lancer & Medb Lily | Saber
Series: Re: generation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942375
Comments: 17
Kudos: 42





	A Girl Called Fang

**Author's Note:**

> Some cotton candy fluff to help lift the pall of COVID, although hopefully with just enough bite to keep the diabetes at bay.

Cú leaned against the wall of the breakroom, his fingers itching for the smoke that he wouldn’t allow himself. Not while the kids were sitting at the table, playing some kind of card game with all the fierce intensity of dueling braves.

“Hah, I have you now! _Pik Dame_ , attack!” called Chloe von Einzbern, slapping down a card bearing a stylized image of a black queen. Her pale gold eyes flashed orange with triumph. 

“Uuuuh…” Jack complained, then looked at her own hand and suddenly grinned. “But I have the King of Spades! That means I can stab her, right?”

The dagger slid into her eager grip with the merest whisper of steel, but it seemed to fill the entire room. Cú frowned and moved to intervene, but he’d barely taken a step when the odd little winter Jeanne hurriedly grabbed the Assassin’s wrist.

“Not for real, Jack! It’s just pretend,” she said, then added in a softer voice, “I don’t want to have to put you on the naughty list.”

“Or beg Miss Da Vinci for another set of cards,” added Illyasviel glumly, as she exchanged a look with her sister that was almost sympathetic for once.

Unbidden, Cú’s mouth curled into a small smile as the girls settled back into their game, their cheerful boasts and taunts drifting as a rare melody to his scarred ears. Sentimentality wasn’t usually in his repertoire. He much preferred charging towards new horizons and fresh challenges over lingering on faded triumphs and old mistakes. But sometimes nostalgia crept over him anyway, on days when even his formidable bones ached with old hurts.

With reminiscence came the taste of sea salt on his tongue, carried by memory across an ocean of time. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the angry squawks of wheeling birds as the boy took them down with unerring precision. Blue hair waving in the wind, a smile on his lips even when Cú approached him spear in hand. Connla had been so young, scarcely a few summers older than the laughing girls before him.

“You never said we were playing with the Joker! That’s not fair!” 

Laughter turned to discord, and the sudden force in those high voices dragged Cú back to the present.

“House rules. It’s not my fault you didn’t bother asking!”

The Irish spearman blinked to find Chloe and Illyasviel arguing, one wearing a smirk while the other’s cheeks puffed in indignation, over the heads of their bemused companions. Scratching his neck, he moved towards the doorway, only to turn and linger a little longer. 

It was too late for regrets, and Cú knew he should celebrate instead of mourn his son. Connla had grown into a fine warrior despite his youth, enough to press his sire to the limit in battle. It had only been Gae Bolg that had allowed Cú to win that fight. 

But while he was proud of the Connla’s martial prowess, he couldn’t help but wonder what he might have looked like at play, holding a fistful of cards and grinning—

Arms wrapped themselves around his neck, strong enough to choke a bull despite their slender grace. Their owner brazenly draped herself over him, soft but unwelcome curves over the hard muscle of his back.

“Cú~uu!” trilled Medb, saccharine in his ear. “Why so gloomy? That look doesn’t suit you at all.”

Sighing impatiently, he shifted out of her grip. “I’m not in the mood for this today, Medb.”

“I know what would cheer you up,” she said, entirely undeterred by his standoffishness as she twirled her riding crop between her fingers. “A ten hour work out! First on your battlefield…” her voice lowered to a throaty purr, “and then on mine.”

He didn’t need the sway of hips to know what she was suggesting. Her whole face was flushed with it, from the predatory gleam in her hazel eyes to the subtle drag of tongue over her teeth. It wasn’t an unattractive package, if you were into it.

Cú wasn’t. Even without the ugly history between them, he’d been on the receiving end of her advances often enough that the novelty had long worn off.

“Still not interested,” he grunted. “Why don’t you hit up Fergus?”

As much as Cú respected his foster father, the man did lose his head when it came to beautiful women. Especially one that could match his vigour between the sheets, as he enjoyed telling his ward whenever the mead flowed a little too freely.

His gaze drifted back towards the card table. The girls appeared to have shelved their rules debate for the time being, although the little Archer’s frown suggested it would be unpacked again in short order.

Medb kicked at the floor. “Fergus left with Master on a Rayshift, for who knows how long. I’m not about to wait on him to scratch my itch.” Cú held himself stiff as she traced her fingers admiringly along his jawline and added, “And I do like some variety in my men.”

“Go bother Berserker, then,” Cú ground out, a touch of steel sharpening his gaze. “Isn’t he everything you want from me? The perfect tyrant king. Just as you wished for.”

Her expression turned sour. “He said he wants me to stop hanging around so much, the ungrateful beast.” She tapped the crop a few times against her leg, mouth twisted in thought, before brightening. “Ahh, but that manly defiance is what makes me want you both that much more!”

A sigh escaped the blue spearman. _Persistent as ever_ , he thought, and a touch of admiration curled around the irritation he usually felt towards the Rider. _But I’ve had enough for one day_.

He pulled away and walked towards the table, offering the girls an easy grin as he approached. “Hey, little missies. Got room for one more?”

Cú chuckled as they eagerly made room for him, throwing their cards back so they could start the round afresh. He wasn’t usually interested in children’s games, but picking them over the wolf queen sent a nice clear signal. And while he was being disgustingly sentimental, he might as well admit that the cheer in their beaming faces was a bit infectious, even if it stung of other smiles half-lost to time.

“Jack takes all,” he declared as he threw a red one on top of the cards already played in the round.

“Ehh? No way, my queen is higher!” said Illyasviel with a frown. “It’s my round!”

The blue spearman only spread his hands against the nods and shouts of agreements arrayed against him, although he didn’t protest when the young Caster firmly scooped up the small pile.

“Kings and queens have a lot less power than they like to claim,” he said, offering them a toothy grin. “All the actual work of running a place goes to the warriors. All the fun stuff, too.”

Including the fun of having half of Chaldea’s self-proclaimed royalty try to gut him if they ever caught wind of this conversation. He leaned back in his chair with a smile. 

* * *

Medb’s fingers tightened on her riding crop. 

_He’d rather play with the brats then ride with me. Hmph, men like him really are the worst!_

All the fierceness in Cú’s crimson eyes, all the power in his lean muscles, gone completely to waste. But as much as she hated seeing his hands curled awkwardly around bits of paper instead of pinning her by the hips, what she resented most was his indifference. Medb accepted hatred and anger directed at her by those she bested—thrived on it, even—but she could not abide being ignored. 

It felt too much like those years in Conchobar’s halls, when she had foolishly craved the touch and presence of the husband chosen by her father. Before she had learned what he truly was.

Medb shook off the unpleasant memories as she always did, by thinking about what she wanted in the here and now. Her gaze moved over the table again, moving over each of the players before settling on the little Lancer with the fluffy coat and bright ribbons. How amusing, to think such a delicate looking thing could be the child version of that snarling black bitch—

The idea came unexpectedly, blooming like a spring rose before her.

“Perhaps… hahaha, why not? Not quite what I had in mind for darling Cú, but this could be fun too!” Beaming, she pivoted from her place in the door and stalked out into the hallway. “Now, where to find that golden brat?”

* * *

“Back to the Black Forest. _Again_ ,” sighed Ritsuka, her feet dragging along the hall to the Rayshift room as Cú walked by her side. “Every time we close one of these singularity fragments, another one pops up.”

“You don’t want to leave a job half-done, Master,” said the Lancer brightly, not bothering to hide his anticipation. Sparring with his fellow Servants was fun and all, but he also liked variety in his opponents. If he was lucky, maybe there’d be one of those great beasts, something to really get his blood pumping.

Ritsuka exhaled, a hand pressed to her brow. “I know, I know. And I’m the only one who can do it.” Her mouth twisted into a pout. “But why did SHEBA have to detect it _just_ when Jeanne finished the next chapter of her Isekai?”

“Something to look forward to when we get back,” Cú shrugged. 

He didn’t really get the appeal of manga—too much sitting and reading when he’d rather be moving—but unlike some of the other knight types, he didn’t have a stick up his ass about it either. That stuff helped bleed some of the stress and nightmares from the young magus, and that was good enough for him.

The Master’s cheeks puffed out, equal parts irritated and playful. “Dammit! I need to know what happens when Delphine confronts her brother—”

Her voice trailed off when she spotted the young girl coming down the hallway towards them. She didn’t look any older than twelve or thirteen summers to Cú’s eye, but the lightweight silver armor over her white shirt and leggings screamed Servant, along with the mere fact of her youth ( _there were no children in Chaldea beyond those called upon to fight and bleed for humanity, a necessity that Cú disliked but tolerated better than many others)_. 

The girl looked unfamiliar with the surroundings, her eyes roaming over white metal walls and the pressed uniforms of the staff, but she held her head high as she walked.

“Ho?” said Cú as her and his Master came to a stop, watching the girl waylay one of the technicians and pepper him with questions. “You’ve gone and summoned another one.”

Ritsuka shook her head in earnest confusion. “No. I’ve never seen her before.” She sucked in a breath, then put on her best smile and approached the girl. “Hey there. I’m Fujimaru Ritsuka, one of the staff here at Chaldea,” she said, underselling her importance as usual. “Who might you be?”

The girl turned to consider them, wide hazel eyes taking in the Master before turning to Cú. His breath caught as he looked her fully in the face. Pink hair framing a face rounded by youth but still all too familiar.

“Is that _Medb_?” he burst out, and grinned in his surprise.

The girl’s brow crinkled for a moment, then she smiled and puffed herself out like a rooster. “That’s right,” she said. “I’m Medb, eldest daughter of High King Eochaid. Do I know you, mister?”

_That impossible queen’s gone and shrunk herself down._ His grin widened at the sheer absurdity of the situation, his gut churning with conflicting emotions. A strong part of him screamed that he wanted no part of this, that there was no way he was getting sucked into one of Medb’s endless schemes. But the girl’s growing pout in the face of his silence, looking like a ruffled cat, made him want to laugh.

The laughter won out, shaking his shoulders as it rolled through him. “Oh, this is too funny,” he snickered, merrily spreading his hands. “ _This_ is Medb, the terror of Cooley. Ahahaha!”

The girl stomped an indignant foot. “Don’t laugh at me!” Ignoring the hands Ritsuka raised towards her in an appeasing gesture, the young Medb summoned a silver sword to her hand and pointed it directly at his throat. “Show a little respect for the future Queen of Connacht!”

But while she declared it loudly, there was a shadow of doubt in her eyes, something that would never show in the smooth confidence of her adult self. It made Cú laugh all the harder.

“The wolf queen, huh?” he said at last, leaning down and smirking at her scowling face. “Right now you’re just a cub, with a single fang to your name.”

He rested a finger on the tip of the blade, only to have her thrust it forward with surprising speed. Pain prickled on the pad of his index, a small bead of crimson showing against the skin, and his grin spread from ear to ear.

“One fang is all you need, if you know where to stick it!” said the girl, shifting into a combat stance.

Amusement bubbled through Cú, erupting as more laughter. This was getting better and better, and despite the call of duty tugging at his lance, he was sorely tempted to ask Master if they could stay and tease the pup a little longer.

Then fingers that were definitely not Ritsuka’s gripped his shoulders for the second time that day. “Adorable, isn’t she?” purred a candy-sweet voice in his ear, and he stiffened as he turned to find the adult Medb smirking at him. “I’m _so_ glad you two are getting along.”

Cú brushed her hand off with deliberate casualness. “Oh, you’re still here. I was hoping she’d replaced you.” He nodded towards where Ritsuka was talking with the young Saber.

“I _had_ meant to simply go back a bit in years, but the little king’s potion had a misfire.” Medb frowned, the crop brushing the underside of her chin. “Though he didn’t seem all that sorry about it.”

The Lancer snorted. “That guy is always bad news, no matter what form he takes.”

“Mmhmm. It’s really too bad,” she said. “The older Archer has _such_ delicious abs.”

“Abs you could grate cheese on, right?” Cú smiled innocently.

The word had its desired effect, as always. “Quite,” said Medb, frost momentarily settling on her brow. Then she relaxed, her shoulders regaining their easy grace as she stepped over to her younger self and laid a possessive hand on her head, eliciting a squawk of protest. “But I’m still happy with how things turned out. If she can captivate even the mighty Cú Chulainn, she’ll have all of Chaldea wrapped around her finger in no time, haha!”

She patted the girl on the head, and ignored the stink eye she received in turn.

“Hah, is that what you’re going for?” Cú shrugged. “I hope you didn’t pay the kid too much for the potion, then. Cute isn’t exactly in short supply around here.” He clapped Ritsuka on the back. “Come on Master, we’ve wasted enough time. There’’s some demon boars with my name on’em.”

“Ahh, right.” The magus fell into step beside him, then paused to look over her shoulder. “And… Medb Lily, I guess…” she said, tasting the name on her tongue and clearly finding it strange, “Let’s talk when I get back, okay?”

“Yeah. See you around, little fang,” said Cú, casually waving over his shoulder as they headed for the Rayshift room.

But hardened warrior though he was, he still had to suppress a small shiver under the weight of two sets of hazel eyes boring into his back.

* * *

A few days later found Cú wandering down towards the cafeteria, feeling restless in his skin. Even if Servants didn’t need food, the comfortable atmosphere always attracted strays. And strays were always good for a fight or two, even if some of them needed to be riled up a bit first. Take the red bowman, the one Cú couldn’t remember from life, but whose mouth always twitched whenever the lancer came close—

Eager footsteps from around the corner signalled the arrival of the younger Medb, wearing a proud smile and carrying an entire armful of snacks. Cú spotted bottles of fizzy drinks and brightly coloured packages of candy sticks, chocolates and chips and ramen cups, more junk than he’d ever imagined Chaldea kept in stock. 

It really was none of his business. No good would come of getting involved. But Cú had always prioritized curiosity over sense, and he saw no reason to change that now. He veered course to fall into step beside her, meeting her questioning frown with a mocking arch of eyebrows.

“You’ll give yourself a stomach ache if you eat all that, Fang.”

The kid glared at him. “Hmph! Nobody asked _you_.” She quickened her pace for a few steps, then smiled. “And I can do whatever I want with them. They’re the spoils of my raid.”

“Ho?” He casually folded his arms behind his head as he followed along. “The red archer’s getting sloppy if he let you get away with all that stuff.”

The girl smirked. “I got that Illyasviel girl to play with him as a distraction. Then the bird lady let me help myself!”

“Not surprised. Circe’s a big believer in letting people learn from consequence.” His lips quirked. “Like getting fat.”

“You’re just jealous that I have snacks and you don’t,” she bristled, pulling her arms a little more tightly around the cups and bags. “And I don’t care. I’ll eat as much as I like.”

She stuck her tongue out at him then kept walking, tilting her head high in the air in what she clearly thought was a queenly manner. Following an instinct he didn’t bother questioning, Cú followed along.

A little while later she knocked at a door, one of many identical ones in the Servants’ wing. After a brief pause, it hissed part way open ( _huh, he hadn’t known they could do that_ ) and dark eyes blinked suspiciously at them from behind a pair of glasses.

“You got the goods, kouhai?”

The kid nodded proudly, holding out her prizes. Osakabehime snatched them up, then pressed a half dozen slim books on her in exchange.

“Arigathanks for your business!” she called, disappearing back into a darkened room filled with pop music and flickering shadows from several screens. “Haha, more fuel for my eighteen hour ma—hey!”

Cú’s foot blocked the door from sliding fully shut. “What the hell did you just give the kid, Miss Bat?”

“Yaogoodies! A totally fair trade!” said the Assassin petulantly, then twisted to avoid his grasp when he tried to pull her out. “Leggo of me! I’ll call Penth-san on you!”

The yokai might have been a coward but she was also slippery as an eel, especially with the eldritch power she commanded in any space marked as her lair. Cú swiftly gave up in favour of catching up to young Medb. Fortunately she hadn’t gotten far, her speed considerably cut by the manga she held open in one hand as she walked.

Cú snatched it from her grip. “Hold up, Fang. Let me have a look.”

“Hey, give that back!”

Pivoting around to bring the bulk of his shoulder to bear against the angry girl’s attempts to recover her treasure, he glanced down at the book. Two guys with their shirts open exchanged rosy-lipped pouts.

“Love Crash Therapy? BL?” Cú frowned at the flowery text, then flipped through the pages hoping for clarification.

“Those are mine!” yelled Medb, stomping on his foot hard enough to make a lesser warrior yelp. “Get your own cute boys!”

Gritting his teeth, Cú glanced through the images. Guys making out? Well, it happened often enough, and there was no accounting for taste. But the more he read, the more he frowned. The scenes depicted weren’t anything like Fergus’ occasional tumbles with a fellow Ulsterman, or the fierce bond of lovers fighting together on the field. Instead there was endless moping and bad melodrama, and one guy whimpering and crying under the other’s mere touch.

Cú’s nose crinkled. Whatever he thought of the wolf queen, at least Medb had good taste in men. Watching her younger self pine over illustrated drama queens was just too painful.

“Nah, lass. You don’t need any of this garbage.” He tore the rest of the books from her, then shoved the whole lot into the hands of a passing technician before grinning at her. “You like strong men, right?”

Medb paused in the act of grabbing the manga back from the confused human. “Strong _and_ cool,” she specified, glaring at him with suspicion but also more than a bit of interest.

“If you read that stuff, you’ll end up thinking all men are either fainting flowers or manipulative snakes. Or gods forbid, trying to act like they do.” He shook his head, then started off down the hall. “Come on, Fang. I’ll set you up.”

She hurried to catch up with him. “This had better be good,” she grumbled.

“I’ve never disappointed a lady yet,” he said good-naturedly, then frowned when he realized just who he was saying that to. _Eh. A remorseless ‘Rider of Men’ doesn’t count as a lady anyway._

It was only a little distance to Alexander’s door. A knock and a quick exchange of words, and the bright-eyed lad enthusiastically gave him a second stack of manga. Cú’s teeth flashed white as he dropped them into Medb’s hands.

“ _Burning Blade?”_ she asked, looking dubiously at the cover, where an armored warrior stood fast against the snarling minotaur towering over him.

“That’s the good stuff,” nodded Cú. “The battles aren’t very accurate, but it’s full of honourable warriors and brave deeds. That’s the kind of man that should be admired.” He gave her a cheerful thumbs-up when she glanced up at him, then back at the book. “It’ll put some hair on your chest. Well, not yours obviously, but you get the point.”

The girl slowly flipped through the pages. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try it,” she said, then shot him a look. “But if it’s stupid, I’ll totally make you pay.”

It was all Cú could do to stop himself from ruffling her hair.

* * *

For a last bastion of humanity, Chaldea was filled to the brim with bad influences. Or maybe that was exactly what Cú should have expected from legends pulled from the vast sea of stories. 

Either way, he found himself stepping in several times over the following days to stop young Medb from learning all the wrong lessons. He pushed Moriarty from the table and shook the marked cards from the girl’s sleeve. A threatening tap of Gae Bolg against the wall sent Robin Hood away from the door the duo had been working on together, lock picks tucked back under his cloak. Confiscating the full flagon of rum Drake gave the pup ended in a full-on brawl with the pirate, and his ears had rung with cannon fire for hours afterwards. 

Most of all, he lured her on errands away from her older self, dreading the lessons in callous cruelty she might learn behind the wolf queen’s paw. Although that had not proven as difficult as Cú had feared. Medb’s interest in her cub was as mercurial as her other whims. It was a relief, really, even if it also offended his sense of responsibility ( _and sent old guilt and regrets scurrying like ants under his skin, where he couldn’t dig them out_ ).

But Cú definitely wasn’t taking an interest in the girl, not more than he would show any other young Servant newly arrived at Chaldea. He didn’t keep a close watch on her, the way EMIYA did over the younger Kiara. He just interfered with corrupting influences on the kid whenever he stumbled over them. And if he stumbled over quite a few, that was only because Cú was the kind of guy that hated sitting idle, and Chaldea was a small cage for a man used to marching leagues at a time.

One day the restlessness again crept over him until it felt like too much to bear, and once again Cú took refuge in the cafeteria. Only this time, alcohol replaced battle as his distraction of choice. 

While he normally hated drinking alone, a spot of solitude sounded surprisingly appealing at that moment. So he only grabbed the amber bottle when EMIYA reluctantly slid it across the counter to him, not the glass the Archer pointedly offered or the man himself, and settled himself in the corner. 

Cú was just beginning to savour both his mead and his melancholy when Medb Lily sat down across from him, holding herself as tall as possible. A wave of his hand should have been enough to dismiss her, but she only set down stubborn elbows and stared at him.

_No matter what her age, Medb refuses to read a mood_. But the earnest twist of the cub’s mouth brought a reluctant smile to his own.

“What can I do for you, little fang?” he asked in his easy drawl.

The glint in her eye held a challenge, even before she spoke. “You were at the Cattle Raid of Cooley.”

Hearing that from _Medb_ , of all people… he shook his head and took another pull from the bottle. But then, that war belonged to the grown she-wolf, not the scrawny pup in front of him. Years after the days when she must have been out playing with her father’s braves ( _somehow he doubted she had been content to sit inside and watch_ ). Before Conchobar and all the trouble that followed.

“You could say I was there, yeah,” he said, letting some humour colour his words.

Elbows now fully planted on the table, she leaned forward and looked at him expectantly.

“Hah. Shouldn’t you be asking your queen? She’d be delighted to tell you all about it.” Cú shrugged. “Even if she suffered losses, she still got her bull.”

“I want to hear about it from you,” said the girl, her words tumbling over each other in her eagerness. “Did you really hold off an army all by yourself?”

Clarity dawned, and set a frown on his face. _Ahh, there we go. She wants to hear all about strong men, just like her older self. I guess it’s still better than pining over that BL stuff._

“I did,” he allowed at last, resigning himself to having yet another girl fawn over his power without understanding what came with it. 

She chewed her lip for a bit. “Do you think I could get that strong, too?”

His fingers jerked around the neck of the bottle. _Well now. That’s not the interest I thought she was angling for._ He studied her a bit more closely. “It got pretty messy, Fang. You sure you want to hear about it?”

The keen interest on her face spoke for itself. Somehow it warmed him as much as the mead in his belly, and he found himself grinning again.

Then she reached for the bottle, and he tightened his hand to hold it in place. When she looked up at him in annoyance, he shook his head.

“Come on,” she whined. “Stories are supposed to go with booze, right?”

Cú barked a laugh. “Who told you that?”

Young Medb hesitated, clearly reluctant to sell out a conspirator but coaxed by his smile. After a few heartbeats, she relented. “Jing Ke.”

“Guess I’ll need to have a talk with our kingslayer later, then,” said Cú, then considered the pup in front of him. “Half a glass, no more.”

“Deal!’” she said gleefully, and scampered off to fetch the glass he’d left abandoned on the kitchen counter. 

When he poured the drink, with all the reverence due to a warrior’s first, she watched the amber slosh into the glass with bated breath. Medb took a big gulp, then almost spat it out as coughs wracked her lanky frame. But as soon as they abided, she stubbornly took another sip, and this time managed to hold it down.

Cú smiled approvingly, then leaned back in his seat. “Alright. So it was a spring morning, and the enemy was just cresting over the hill…”

Medb gave him all the right reactions as he spun his tale, her eyes wide as he spoke of fierce duels and desperate raids, little cries of fear at the Morrigan’s visit and the _ríastrad_ warping his body, yells of indignation when her older self forced him to kill his foster brother. If she realized that he softened some of the details for her, she didn’t complain, only enthusiastically asked what happened next.

It had been a while since Cú had such a good audience. Before he quite realized it, he’d launched into another story, this time about his journey to the Isle of Skye seeking the formidable Queen of Shadows. Then another after that, until the adult Medb came to fetch the kid away, clicking her tongue in impatience when the girl dragged her heels, glancing frequently back at Cú until they both disappeared into the corridors.

Kind of too bad. Cú wouldn’t have minded a bit more company, now that his dour mood had lifted. Glancing around the cafeteria, he caught EMIYA’s eye and gave him an insolent grin as he raised the empty bottle. 

“Hey Red! Can I get a refill?”

The Archer frowned as he approached, the drying cloth still slung over his arm. “I’m not going to listen to a drunken hound howl for more, or let you guzzle more than your share. Alcohol’s in limited supply.”

_With the world incinerated_ hung in the air, but both had weathered too many desperate sieges to let it dampen the mood much.

“Tch, stingy!” said Cú without rancor. He could always hit up the illicit still that Billy had set up in the old observatory, using Touta’s rice and whatever flavourings he could wrangle. Though from the superior curl of EMIYA’s smile, he was pretty sure the man already knew all about it.

“Speaking of alcohol,” said the Archer, his brows furrowing, “You shouldn’t be giving it to minors. Weren’t you complaining about bad examples the other day?”

“This is different.” Cú flashed him a grin. “Fang’s a warrior, even if she’s a stumpy one. She’s allowed a drink so long as it’s tailored to her size.” He spread his hands in affected disappointment in response to the other’s withering look. “Ahh, I don’t expect you to understand. See, look.”

Cú pointed towards the kitchen, where the young Kiara was making rice balls under Touta’s patient guidance. He did not miss the small smile that ghosted across the Archer’s lips before they settled into their usual grim line.

“You’ve got a fluffy chick following after you,” said Cú. “I’ve got a wolf cub on my hands. You gotta cut me some slack, yeah?”

EMIYA’s steely gaze stayed on the little Caster a moment longer, before he smirked at Cú. “Oh? So you admit you’ve taken charge of her, then.”

“I didn’t say that!” Cú bristled as he rose from his seat.

EMIYA’s smirk only sharpened as he gave an exaggerated shrug. “Give me a break. To think the Child of Light would try to obscure the obvious, what’s the world coming to?”

Temper quickened Cú’s blood as he whirled on the man. “If you’re going to hoard the drink, then how about you give me a round instead?” His lips curled in a ferocious grin as Gae Bolg solidified in hand. “Been too long since my spear tasted blood.”

EMIYA’s fingers twitched, a hint of battle lust in his eyes before he reluctantly shook his head. “While I would enjoy shutting your yap, I need to take Kiara down to the lab in a half hour. Da Vinci’s teaching her about thermodynamics.”

The pleasant thrum of adrenaline abruptly flattened in Cú’s veins, making him grind his teeth. “Gods, you really _are_ a mother hen,” he scowled, slinging the spear over his shoulder as he stalked away. “I’ll find Beowulf, then. _He_ never backs away from a fight.”

And a good fight was exactly what Cú needed. It would wipe away the small twinge of envy that grabbed his heart when he glanced back to see EMIYA bending over the rice balls, considering each with mock solemnity as the young Kiara smiled by his side.

* * *

The next day found Cú strolling along the corridors in the easy loping stride he favoured when he didn’t have anywhere in particular to be. He certainly wasn’t avoiding the cafeteria, or anywhere else he’d have to look at that red Archer’s smug face. Certainly not.

So why was everyone smiling at him? Everyone from the technicians to the other Servants, even that idiot Blackbeard, favoured him with grins as they crossed his path. A few of them even had hands pressed over their mouths, muffling laughter. 

Cú generally thought of himself as an easy-going guy, but this was seriously wearing on his patience. Gae Bolg was just forming in his grip, Fionn’s wink having snapped the last thread of his goodwill, when the familiar voice of Cleopatra drifted from behind him.

“Lift up your feet a bit more, dear. And don’t slouch.”

He forced a smile as he turned around, though his fingers still clenched on the spear. “Now what man doesn’t like a pretty lady taking an interest in him? But you sh—”

His mouth snapped shut as he took in the Egyptian queen leaning over the young Medb, demonstrating a gait that the pup tried to imitate with limited success. The picture wasn’t helped at all by the yellow spear Medb carried over her shoulder, or the sight of Chloe and Illyasviel following a little distance behind and smiling from ear to ear.

Cú crossed his arms. “What do you think you’re doing, Fang?”

“Following you,” she said, completely unabashed.

Suppressing a sigh, he shot an irritated look at Cleopatra, who was barely hiding her own smile behind an elegant hand. Then he glowered down at young Medb. “What happened to being a Saber class?”

“A Saber can use a lance!” she said defensively. “The red archer uses swords, after all.”

Cú pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lass, you don’t want to be anything like that prick.” His mouth twisted as his eyes settled on her new weapon. “Did he give you that?”

“No. Diarmuid loaned me his practice spear when I asked.” 

_Great_. Another Servant added to the list of guys Cú needed to trounce, especially with the way the girl’s cheeks flushed pink when she said his name. 

“But EMIYA said he’d teach me,” she then added, giving Cú a defiant look.

The trap was obvious, even without the hint of slyness in the girl’s smirk and Chloe’s unsubtle thumbs-up. But Cú found that he didn’t care. 

“What does that guy know about lances?” he drawled, and smiled inwardly when he saw Medb’s eyes light up. “I guess it can’t be helped, then. Unless you’d rather be a Rider?”

“No!” He wasn’t disappointed when her smile instantly turned into a fierce shake of the head, her pink hair whipping about. “I want to be like the best.”

Laughter bubbled up from his chest as he watched her brows draw in triumph, already sure of her victory. It had been a long time since Cú laughed that hard. 

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” he warned once he’d resumed some semblance of composure.

“You’d better not,” Medb scoffed, although she looked a little uneasy as she followed him to the training hall. Probably remembering his stories about his own grueling lessons at the point of Scáthach’s spear, and wondering how much he’d inflict on her in turn.

Cú had been thinking about that himself, but swiftly reconsidered after he put her through some paces. They had a long way to go. Because although her reflexes were sharp and her instincts good…

“You can’t wield a spear like you would a sword, Fang.” He shook his head. “That’s going to get you killed.”

“It’s basically the same!” Medb shouted in frustration, pushing sweat-soaked bangs out of her eyes. “It’s got a blade and a pointy end!”

Cú glared down at her. “A lance thirsts to pierce its target, not slash it. That means putting your weight behind the shaft, not into the blade.” Automatically he reached down to adjust her grip on the weapon, before moving back into a combat stance. 

“Right,” she nodded, then charged him.

They exchanged a few more blows, and Cú found himself growling in his throat. “Tighten your steps! And use your reach to keep the enemy at a good distance. If they close in, you’re in rough shape. Like so!” 

He easily slipped past her guard and bopped her on the head. Not enough to hurt anything but her pride, but he’d definitely managed that from the way she snarled. Laughing, he dodged her counterattack and moved to the side—

— and saw Scáthach standing by the doorway, silently watching them,

_Oh no_. Abruptly he pulled back, parrying a few stray jabs of Medb’s spear before she sensed his shift and followed his gaze to the shadowed woman. Cú’s shoulders straightened, an instinctive reaction to his old mentor’s presence. Even after all these years, it was hard to read the cold scarlet of her eyes.

“Teacher,” he said cautiously. “It’s good to see you here.”

Before he could add more, Medb bounced up on her toes next to him. “That’s Scáthach?” she asked, then looked at him reproachfully. “She’s really pretty! Why’d you call her an old hag?”

As unreadable as Scáthach could be, there were a few expressions Cú was all too familiar with. The little smile flitting across her face chilled him to the marrow. 

He swallowed hard. “Hah, she’s such a kidder.” 

The smile held a shade too long, then the grim Lancer stepped forward. Cú felt some relief when she cooly brushed past him, only to tense up when she stopped in front of Medb. “Hmm. It seems there are a few things I must impart to your new student.”

“Hey, she’s not my…” Red eyes flicked towards him, and he surrendered with a sigh. “Just bring her back in one piece.”

His mentor said nothing, only offered a hand to Medb. The girl hesitated, clearly torn between admiration and apprehension, before setting her jaw and taking it. Still, she shot Cú a nervous glance as she followed the queen out.

Cú slumped on his spear, already knowing this wouldn’t end well.

* * *

His dread was entirely validated when young Medb was returned to him an hour later. In one piece, certainly, but also bouncing from a sugar high after Scáthach stuffed her full of honey cakes and sweet apples.

“Cú, tell me another story!” she chirped, tugging him towards a bench before abruptly spinning around. “No wait, let’s go hunt some bulls! Oh, oh, or let’s go take selfies in the command centre! No no, in front of the big window where’s my phone where’d it go—”

The Queen of Shadows’ vengeance was terrible indeed.

* * *

“She’s improving,” observed Scáthach as their lances clashed in fierce strikes, blurs of red barely visible to the human eye.

There was a touch of pride in Cú’s grin, even if it was a little strained under the sheer force of his mentor’s blows. “Yeah, Fang’’s coming along—hah!” Narrowly he dodged a second spear aimed at his chest, twisting around and dancing past its edge for a counterstrike, which she sidestepped in turn. “There’s only so much a Servant can learn, of course, but yeah. She’s getting better. Not that she’ll let anyone forget it, hah. Any chance to boast.”

Feint, lunge, thrust, in a dance of red steel no less vicious for being practice. Both warriors would readily draw blood if presented with the slightest opening. 

“You were much the same, said Scáthach with the ghost of a smile, entirely unruffled even as his blade whistled past her cheek.

Instead of protesting, Cú smirked. “I know. But somehow I don’t think you’d be happy if I gifted her my Gae Bolg and sent her off.”

Scarlet eyes bored into him, stripping away his laughter as he squirmed under her gaze. She stepped away and lowered her spears, signalling the end of the duel. He might have asked why they were stopping before they’d either marked a clear victor or exhausted themselves, if not for the dryness in his throat.

Then she said, more gently than her wont, “She isn’t Connla.”

“I know that,” grumbled Cú, though his heart lurched in his chest. “I know it doesn’t change anything.”

Dismissing his own weapon, he took a few steps towards the door before the sting of sea salt in his eyes brought him to a halt. Resting his hand against the cold metal of the wall did only so much to steady him.

“I meant for the geases to toughen him up,” he said after a moment, sensing her eyes still on him. “So he’d stand on his own, without leaning on my name or lineage. But no, that’s just what I told myself. The truth is I had no time for him.” A bitter laugh tore from his throat. “Hell. You spent all that time training me, and I didn’t even repay the favour for your nephew.”

“Aife trained him,” said Scáthach quietly. “Better than you could have.”

“Yeah,” breathed Cú, his fists balling at the memory of those bright eyes. “He was skilled, alright. Would have had me dead to rights, if he hadn’t held back in account of me being his old man. I know.” He ran a hand down his face, lingered over his mouth. “That doesn’t change that I should have been there for him.”

“Dying well is a gift.” A whisper of boots against tile as Scáthach circled him.

“So is living well.” He smiled against the stiffening in his mentor’s shoulders. “I can’t change what happened with Connla. All I can do is hope that Master summons him someday, so I can tell him how proud he made me.”

Cú stepped back towards the centre of the training room, opening his palm and feeling Gae Bolg’s comforting heft settle on it again. “But here and now, I have another cub to train. Fang isn’t Connla, not even close. But she’s got some of his fire, and some talent of her own. If I can teach her to value honour as much as she does passion, what kind of queen might she grow up to be?”

Scáthach’s lips pressed together, as they often did when she was about to offer advice. Then they locked eyes, crimson on scarlet, and she smiled instead.

“Very well. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish with her, Setanta.”

He grinned as scarlet spears flashed in her hands. “Yeah, but enough talk. We’re here to fight.”

But scarcely a few blows and parries in, Scáthach pulled away. Moments later, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside before a pink shadow appeared in the doorway.

“Cú! It’s time for dinner,” called young Medb, bounding in to tug on the fabric of his arm sleeve. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

He smiled indulgently as he let her pull him along. “Good thinking. A warrior marches on his belly.”

“And maybe Billy will be there!” said the girl, brightening at the thought. She skipped a few steps ahead, then twirled and looked at him. “Hey, Cú. What should I do if I like a boy?”

His lips curled up. “You present yourself to his parents and fight for his hand, of course. Prove you’re a worthy suitor.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but from the way her eyebrows pulled down, it looked like she was taking him entirely seriously. After a moment, she hit her fist against her palm. 

“So I need to take down Helena and Geronimo.” The silver sword shimmered into her hand as she grinned. “That should be easy enough, they’re just Casters.”

“Hold on there, Fang. There’s more to handling that type than you think…”

Their voices drifted down to Scáthach, watching them from the far end of the hallway. Ater a moment she nodded to herself, ready to return to her own quarters—food had long since lost any taste for her—when an annoyed slap of riding crop on palm drew her attention.

“Hmph!” The adult Medb pouted as she watched Cú flick a finger against her younger self’s forehead. “If she wanted romantic advice, she should have come to me. Nobody knows more about winning men.”

“It’s not just the boy she wants,” said the Lancer after a moment, “But his approval.”

“Tch! As if a queen should care for anyone’s opinion but her own.”

Scáthach’s mouth twisted into a smile that contained little humour. “Your first wish brought you the version of my student that suited you best. It seems only fitting that your second would grant him the reverse.”

The Rider shot her a dirty look, flexing the crop against her hand. Then she seemed to think better of things, her brow smoothing over. “Ahaha! Well, even if it’s a different me, Cú’s eyes are still on us. I’ll count it as a win.” With a toss of pink hair over one shoulder, the Rider strode down a separate corridor. “Now, where has Fergus gotten to…?”

The Queen of Shadows watched her for a moment, then back down towards the cafeteria passage, where the younger Medb had somehow cajoled Cú Chulainn into letting her ride on his shoulders.

“A draw, I think.”

  
  



End file.
